


A Cup of Kindness

by ama



Series: Helpless and Hoping [2]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Friendship, Gen, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 22:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/ama
Summary: Leckie decides he owes his friends an explanation for why he's moving to Alabama.





	A Cup of Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on tumblr and inarex requested a fic where Leckie and Sledge come out to the guys. This is technically a tie-in to my Pacific Big Bang fic but you can more or less figure out what's going on from context...

**December 31, 1947**

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Leckie…” Sledge sighed.

“It’s a holiday, and they’ve travelled all this way—”

“ _They’ve_ travelled all this way? I _drove here_ from _Alabama_.”

“I know, I know. But if things go poorly—and Mary and Julie are here, too—”

Leckie gestured plaintively and Sledge sighed. They’d been having this argument for almost two months now. The last time they had met in person, they had agreed that New Year’s was the best time to tell their friends about Leckie’s upcoming move and everything that went along with it. But every letter he’d received from Leckie in the weeks since had opened with “I’ve changed my mind, I can’t do this” and closed with “I’m sorry, I changed my mind again—obviously it’s the only thing to do.”

They were sitting in a hotel restaurant in New York City, waiting for the others to arrive, and a waiter stopped by the table before they could say anything more.

“Would you gentlemen care for a drink while you wait for the rest of your party?” he asked.

“Whiskey on the rocks, please,” Leckie said, his fingers tapping anxiously against the table. “Irish.”

“Two,” Sledge said, lifting his hand. “And a glass of the house red. For Vera,” he said to Leckie as the waiter disappeared. “She said she’d be right down.”

Leckie nodded. He fished a cigarette out of his pockets and lit it, and took a deep drag as he surveyed the restaurant. It was packed full of well-dressed people having a wonderful time, laughing and drinking and dancing. Leckie looked like he would prefer to storm a beach than join them.

Sledge rested a hand on his arm.

“Hey. Vera and Hoosier will be there. And Sid and Mary.”

“What did they say when you told them?”

“I didn’t _tell_ them anything. I implied and they inferred, like any good well-bred Southerners.”

Leckie grinned wryly and tapped his ash into a nearby tray.

“I’m not looking forward to that, I have to admit. Bad enough talking to your mother.”

“Well, you’ll have to get used to it, carpetbagger.” Leckie laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. His eyes kept sweeping the room. A sense of dread settled in Sledge’s stomach and he took a deep breath. He had been pointedly avoiding this particular line of conversation, but he needed to say it. “Bob… you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Leckie said. “No, it’s got to be now. I wanted it to be in person, so—so it has to be tonight.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sledge said firmly. His tone startled Leckie, who finally stopped scanning the room and looked at him. Sledge dropped his gaze and ran his hand up and down the sleeve of Leckie’s tux. It was a crowded room. No one would notice. “It doesn’t have to be tonight. It doesn’t have to be ever. And—and you don’t have to move. If you don’t want to, if you’re not ready… I’d understand.”

Leckie stared at him for a minute. The tension in his face seemed to ease a little bit.

“That part’s not negotiable,” he said in a low voice. He covered Sledge’s hand with his own. “I want to do this.”

“Okay.”

“Evening, boys.”

They turned at the same time, and then Leckie stood up and held out his hands.

“Miss Vera Keller,” he declared. “Drop-dead gorgeous, as always.”

Vera laughed. She took his hands in her own and stepped forward for a kiss on the cheek. They had all driven up from New Jersey together, but Vera had wanted to get some shopping done and then taken her time dressing for dinner. She had clearly put the time to good use. Her dress was midnight blue silk and taffeta, with a heart-shaped neckline and a sprinkle of gold stars at the bottom of the skirt. Her hair was done up in some of the most magnificent curls Sledge had ever seen.

Just as Vera sat down, the waiter reappeared with their drinks. Vera smiled at Sledge.

“Always count on a Southern man to look out for a lady. Cheers, Eugene.”

“Cheers,” Sledge grinned, lifting his glass in response.

“You both look awfully nice yourself—although I’m surprised neither of you are in blues. You know I love the blues,” she teased Leckie.

“It’s almost 1948, Vera. They’re way out of style by now.”

“Oh, never!”

They chatted easily for a few more minutes, and Sledge thought that it was a good idea that Vera was here before the others. She and Leckie had similar senses of humor, and she _knew_. The conversation and the whiskey eased Leckie’s mind, and his smile when the rest of the party arrived was genuine.

Hoosier, Runner, Chuckler, and Julie all arrived at the same time, and Sid and Mary shortly after. They were a good-looking group, although privately Sledge thought the girls had shown up the guys. They were all wearing evening gowns—Vera in sapphire blue, Julie in emerald green, and Mary in ruby red—and they insisted on sitting next to each other, looking like three dark-haired sisters out of some fairy tale.. The men in their black tuxes looked rather dull by comparison—although Leckie wore his well, Sledge thought faithfully.

“I tell ya, we’ve _got_ to do this in Chicago next time,” Chuckler said, shaking his head, as he sat down. “The train ride from Chicago to New York is murder.”

“Hey, no worse than the ride from Alabama,” Sid said ruefully. “And there’s three of us coming from there—maybe we should be going down South.”

“Nope,” Hoosier said. “Three from the Midwest. I vote Chicago.”

“And three from New York-slash-Jersey,” Leckie said with a grin. “We’re tied.”

“No we’re not,” Runner chimed in. “I’m almost halfway between the two of you. I say we all meet in Buffalo.”

“How many feet of snow is Buffalo under right this minute?” Sledge asked.

“Four and a half.”

“I’m not going to Buffalo.”

“Yeah, we’re going to pass,” Sid said, gesturing to Mary, who was still deep in conversation with Julie about wedding flowers.

And just like that, it was as if they saw each other every day instead of twice a year. Conversation flowed easily throughout dinner. Leckie didn’t start fidgeting again until the dessert course. Luckily, no one felt much like dancing, and as soon as they finished they retreated to the privacy of a large suite that Leckie had booked. Even so, it was almost ten o’clock by the time they finally went up.

Julie and Chuckler had brought party hats, which they put on (some reluctantly), and Vera had prepared slips for charades. They played two spirited games, which resulted in the kind of language not often used around ladies. (“I will tell your mother,” Mary scolded. Sid apologized. “Yours too,” Vera said. “Fucked if I care,” Leckie declared, and Vera laughed so hard she snorted.) The highlight of the game, in Sledge’s opinion, was when he drew a slip that read _Gone With the Wind_. He stood there pointing at himself for ten seconds until Leckie guessed the correct answer.

They took a break after the second game for drinks, cigarettes, and snacks. While people were milling about, Leckie drifted over to the corner of the couch where Sledge was sitting.

“Now, you think?” he muttered.

“Might as well,” Sledge replied in kind. “It’s going to be fine, Bob.”

Leckie nodded and cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention for just a few moments.” Everyone looked up expectantly. “The new year is fast approaching, and I know that I, at least, am anticipating some changes with it. I thought I would take this opportunity to share them with you all, since you’re so conveniently gathered here tonight.”

He faltered for a moment; his gaze dropped to the ground, and Sledge saw his chest rise and fall as he let out a deep breath. But then he looked up, and that dazzling Leckie smile was back.

“At some point in the next two or three months, I am going to be moving out of New Jersey. Eugene—Eugene has rented a house in Auburn, and I’m going to move down there and share it with him.”

Sledge’s heart gave a funny little leap in his chest. There were exclamations of surprise throughout the room—several people looked at him and then at Leckie or vice versa—but he tried to ignore that and project nothing but calm.

Vera was the first to respond coherently. She stood up, said “Bob, how _dare_ you!” and flung her arms around him. Mary clapped her hands, and Sid jumped up to deliver the world’s most exuberant handshake. Hoosier repeated “aw, what the hell” several times in a voice halfway between fond and affronted. But it was the remaining three whom they had been worried about, and who seemed the most confused.

“You’re moving to _Alabama_?” Runner said in a stunned voice.

“Yep.”

“Jesus, Leckie.”

“What the hell for?” Chuckler demanded.

“To live with Eugene.”

“No, I got that part,” he said with a wave. “It’s good he’s helping you out—but why? Is there a job down there or something?”

“No. Living together is…” Leckie swallowed. “It’s the end, not the means.”

Runner’s eyes widened, and Julie flushed and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in Chuckler’s ear. Sledge looked up at Leckie and flashed an encouraging smile. Leckie’s lips twitched in response, and Sledge thought _fuck it_ and reached up to hold his hand, just as Chuckler said “ _What_? No—oh.”

Heat crept into his cheeks, and Sledge couldn’t bring himself to look anyone in the eye. Before the pause grew too long, though, Mary—bless her—spoke up.

“Have you told your parents yet?” she asked. “That you’ll be moving?”

“No, not yet. Probably in the next few days, though.”

“Have you told Cindy?” Vera asked with a smile. “She’s going to kill you for leaving her alone in that newsroom.”

“If Cindy had accepted my invitation to join us, she would know. Although the reason she declined is that she’s expecting a proposal tonight, one that she’s actually going to accept, so I think she’ll be too busy to miss me in the next few months.”

Leckie’s gaze drifted back to Runner and Chuckler. Their expressions weren’t hostile, but their responding smiles seemed forced.

“Well,” Sid said, clearing his throat. “Not to steal the show, Lucky, but while we’re making announcements—”

“By all means,” Leckie said with an elaborate bow. He sat down on the couch beside Sledge. Sledge rubbed at his back and felt the other man relax, just slightly, against him.

“—I think Mary has something she’d like to say.”

“Yes.” Mary stood next to her husband and beamed at the room. “I was going to bring it up sooner or later. Sadly, at the advice of my doctor and my husband the future doctor, I’m not going to be able to share any champagne with y’all tonight. Or any night for the next six months or so.”

She rested her hand on her stomach, and for the second time that night, Vera bounded out of her seat for a hug. Sledge’s jaw dropped and for a moment he couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“You’re _pregnant_?” he accused. He turned to look at Sid. “You’re going to be a _father_?” Sid nodded with a stupid smile, and Sledge stood up and slapped him on the back. “Jesus Christ, Sid.”

He gave Sid a hug, kissed Mary on the cheek, and offered his congratulations, as did the entire party. As a distraction, it was excellent; the conversation soon took on a life of its own, and the earlier announcement was allowed to fade into the background.

Sledge was constantly aware of Leckie’s presence, though. He watched him, out of the corner of his eye, and that was why he noticed when Chuckler, Runner, Leckie, and Hoosier casually wandered out of the living room, out onto the balcony. There was a soft whoosh and a breeze of cold air as they stepped outside. Chuckler produced four cigarettes, Leckie a lighter, and they stood together for a minute, smoking, before crossing the balcony. The other end wasn’t visible from the living room.

But from the bedroom...

Sledge gave it a minute, and then quietly excused himself and slipped into the bedroom. He didn’t turn on the light; luckily the curtains still obscured the windows, so he wasn’t spotted from the outside. As carefully as he could, he walked over to the French door and ever-so-slightly lifted the latch. It was a cold night, but not a windy one, and the door swung open by a mere quarter-inch and stayed there.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ us?” Chuckler’s voice demanded.

“I didn’t know how.”

“You told Hoosier!”

“I guessed,” Hoosier protested.

“When did you guess?”

“Fourth of July.”

“Fourth of July?” That was Runner. “We were all down here Fourth of July. You could have told us then.”

“Chuckler had already left by that point, and it just… it never felt like the right time. I didn’t want to put it in a letter, and—it never felt right.” Leckie sounded remarkably calm.

“What about before? On Pavuvu or fucking Gloucester or—all that hurry up and wait time?”

“Jesus Christ, Chuck, I didn’t _know_. I wasn’t lying to you about liking Stella or Vera or—fucking— Betty Grable. I did, or at least I thought it did. I thought it didn’t matter who else I liked, because in the end it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t until I met Sledge that I realized I was kidding myself.”

“But you had—y’know—been with men.”

“Yeah.”

“I would still have wanted to know.”

There was a pause, and then a muffled thump and a squawk. Sledge guessed that Leckie had punched him on the arm.

“I wasn’t sneaking around in the bushes like a pervert. Asshole.”

“I _know_!” Chuckler said, affronted. He sighed, and his voice softened. “I know, buddy. I—fuck. This has all caught me off guard.”

“Leckie…” Runner’s voice was hesitant. “What if you get caught?”

Hoosier mumbled something—Sledge couldn’t make out every word, but it was something about how it wouldn’t be the first time any of them had broken the law.

“Shit, we’re not talking about a few days of bread and water. Men go to _prison_ for this.”

“I know. For fuck’s sake, guys, I _know_ all of this, okay, but… I did what I had to do then, and that’s what I’m doing now. I love him. It may sound… but I love him.”

If there was a response, Sledge didn’t hear it. At that very moment the door to the bedroom opened. Sledge started guiltily and spun around. Sid was standing in the doorway, framed by the light from the living room. He grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You know what they say about eavesdroppers, Eugene.”

He strolled into the room. Sledge quietly pulled the balcony door shut.

“I’m not eavesdropping.”

“No? What do you call it when you’re listening to other people conversations all secret-like, then?”

“Call it making sure Leckie’s okay.” He walked around to the far side of the bed and leaned against it. Sid turned the lamp on and sat next to him, and they both stared at the painting on the wall. It was a copy of something by Monet, or maybe an original work done by a second-rate painter with a love for blurry flowers. “He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to do this,” Sledge said after a minute. “Changed his mind about a hundred times. I just want to make sure he doesn’t regret it.”

“He won’t.”

“He might,” Sledge sighed. They were quiet for a minute, staring at the painting. Sid was mulling over his words—he wasn’t the type to blurt things out.

“Everyone has regrets sometimes. But I promise you, if Leckie ever does, it won’t be because of anyone in this hotel room tonight. I’ve known these guys for six years, Eugene. They’re good people. They’re brothers. And no matter where they start out in this conversation, or how many twists and turns they take, they’re going to end up in the right place.”

“I hope so.” Sledge looked down at the carpet and felt a blush creeping up his face again. “How long have you known?”

“Six months. Eight years. What was the question?”

“All right,” Sledge said, laughing and shoving him away. “Come on, let’s get back to the party. The girls are going to think we’ve abandoned them.”

They returned to the living room. A few minutes later, the four men came in from the balcony. Sledge watched Leckie’s face, but he didn’t seem upset. He wandered over and touched the small of Sledge’s back for a brief moment, and if they were alone he might have kissed him. Here, he left it at that small touch, and drew back to stroll around the room one more time. Vera caught him by the elbow and he leaned down to listen to her. Whatever she said, it made him laugh, which Sledge took as a good sign.

“Hey.”

Sledge turned his head to see Runner standing there with a drink in his hand, smiling awkwardly.

“Hey.”

“What station are we looking for?” he asked, gesturing with his drink, and Sledge realized that he was standing near the radio.

“Oh, I don’t know the numbers ’round here…”

They fiddled with it for a few moments, looking for a station with decent music and a good host for the New Year’s countdown. Midnight was drawing ever nearer, and the excitement was starting to take hold. They all seemed to be moving a little quicker and talking a little louder. Julie and Mary distributed noisemakers, and Chuckler and Hoosier each opened a bottle of champagne and started pouring.

“A toast!” Chuckler proclaimed, once the glasses were distributed.

“Not _yet_!” his fiancee chided. “You have to wait until after midnight.”

“It’s close enough,” he said, waving her off. “Besides, I’ve got something I want to say before the countdown.” He held up his glass. “To the old year. To old friends. To the new year. To new beginnings…” He paused, and his gaze landed first on Sledge, then Sid and Mary, then Leckie. “And to the conspiracy to make sure that our next reunion takes place in Alabama.”

Laughter burst forth, and Chuckler grinned, and the last bit of tension seeped out of Sledge’s body in a sigh. He held up his glass in response and called “Cheers!” They all drank, and at that very moment the newscaster on the radio announced that it was one minute to midnight.

There was a lot of shushing and a flurry of movement as they all crowded together, circled around the radio. Sledge felt an arm around his shoulder and beamed up at Leckie, who grinned right back. They began to count along, Leckie’s voice in his ear.

“Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three! Two! _One_!”

Before he could say another word, the arm around his back tightened and he was spun into a kiss. It startled him—one hand flew up to steady himself before he realized what was happening. After a second, though, he gave in and melted against Leckie’s chest. His heart was pounding like crazy, like the incessant pop of champagne bubbles. Other couples were kissing around them—he heard laughter as Hoosier chivalrously swept Vera into a dramatic dip—and no one was paying them any attention.

And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. They were among friends.

His head was pleasantly spinning when he drew back, and he smoothed a hand over Leckie’s lapel.

“ _Well_ ,” he breathed. He grinned. “Happy New Year.”

Leckie touched their foreheads together and let out a content sigh.

“Yeah. It will be.”


End file.
